Classic Poem

The Elder Son was a young man still,
Though toil and worry had told on him.
The land and the people were hard to till —
His back was bowed and his eyes were dim —
Dimmed by the long, long years of drought;
And his heart was tired of beating alone.
The home was barren within and without —
The ground was hard and the hearts were stone.

The Younger Son went to the world away
With a tenner, a horse, and a good rig-out —
(And his horse was stuffed with the last of the hay,
And he left the farm in a blazing drought.)
But the Elder fought till the fight was won
With despair in his heart and dust in his throat.
('Twas never he heard from the youngest son,
Unless he wanted a five pound note.)

The second son and the third were " good " ,
Though born in a measure resentful too;
But the second was married (the youngest Miss Wood)
And the third was lame — so what could they do?
There were bickering, quarrels, and venom, you bet —
You know how the run of large families run:
The Elder inherits the Nothing to Get —
But one sister stuck to the Eldest Son.

The long drought broke and good seasons came,
And after each harvest the cheques flowed in,
And the money was banked in the old man's name,
But the Son toiled on — 'twas a thankless sin.
The Seasons held and the folk grew rich,
There were regular crops, there was regular rain,
Till in one grand season — no matter which —
The prodigal son strolled home again.

Let Genesis here take up the theme
Bring it up to date, and it fills the bill:
The Elder Son woke from a life-long dream —
Or a life-long stupor — which-e'er you will.
He was quite fed up, for the scales were gone
From his blighted eyes (and he saw, of course);
He left the selection one day at dawn
But he took no tenner and took no horse.

The Elder Son went away into the World.
The World where his spirit by right belonged,
That was manned and womaned and boyed and girled,
And wronged and righted, and righted and wronged.
He worked for wages — he worked for a boss —
He travelled by many a town and run,
Till a woman there was (as there always was)
Who saw a man in the Elder Son.

The woman she took him and dressed him right
And made him shave, as a woman can,
And his eyes grew bright in a single night,
And the Elder Son was a handsome man.
(He seemed a stranger without his beard)
But — women were quick since the race began —
She talked to him long till the cobwebs cleared,
And the Elder Son was a thinking man.

The woman she took him and taught him guile
(She taught him guile as a woman can)
And " manners " to hide it — after a while —
And the Elder Son was a clever man.
And the woman she took him and stroked his fur
As women have done since the world began.
Till he looked from superior heights on her,
And the Elder Son was a confident man.

The woman she took and taught him love —
The love for a woman, as women can,
From the realms below and the realms above —
And the Elder Son was a watchful man.
And the woman she took him and taught him hate:
She showed him he'd wasted his life's short span,
And she told him to wait — till it was too late;
And the Elder Son was a vengeful man.

She sent him away to a seaport town
(A woman of old and wise was she),
And a cheque from an aunt (resurrected) came down
And he travelled by land and city and sea.
He wore no rags and he felt no cold,
He turned to neither the right nor left,
Nor failed like the prodigal son of old —
He ate no husks that the hogs had left.

He found some swine where the wild cats stink
And the Toiler is done on a toasting fork;
But the wise men found, when they came to think,
That he'd ground the grain and he'd cured the pork.
And mail by mail as the long years passed
The woman she wrote as a woman can,
And when he came back to her side at last
The Elder Son was a wealthy man.

The woman she took him and bore him sons
To fill to the brimming his joyful cup.
He purchased the pick of the southern runs
For them to people when they grew up.
But he went to the old selection first,
And O they were glad to see him come,
For he found things there at their ultimate worst,
So he brought his prodigal father home.

He found that nothing to save the wreck
Had ever been done by the prodigal son,
So he took him by the scruff of the neck
And set him to work on his richest run;
And he left him there with every chance
To rise in time to be overseer.
And the Elder Son — this is no romance —
You'll see him down at the Cup next year.